We stand on the cliff edge...
stare into the swirling abyss,
we scream into the wind and storm...
we fall to our knees,
beat our hands until they bleed...
until there's nothing left ,
but bleeding bones and silt...
We dreamt that our wings were torn off,
and that barbed ropes,
were placed about our wrists...
we were paraded and possessed,
they fed our memories...
to the memory sharks.
We differentiate between madness...
and chaos,
and in the end...
whose the clown?
One night past ten...
I heard the call,
heard the Rain Wolf Relshka...
madly howl through a crack in the door.
I went out into the pouring rain...
hid myself in the shadows and mint,
and repeated my name backwards...
I dug in the wet soil,
and cracked my fingers against the stone...
tore up the moss-worn roots,
and dislodged all the stones...
I found something that glinted silver,
and the briefest shades of blue...
a case with the symbol of a seahorse,
rusted and cold as ice...
dirty in hue.
I saw Relshka materialise...
out of the rain and wind,
I saw him bow his head to me...
and his eyes glowing faded green,
he bade me open the box...
Within and laid against timber,
stood a teacup...
a bowl of sand,
and a clock...
I looked up to ask,
what they were for...
what I should do,
yet already the breeze had whisked him away.
I knew however...
what had to be done,
I threw the sand...
into the blizzard within the teacup,
and dropped the timepiece inside...
I stared into the depths of that wilderness,
and saw some images on the sly...
A growling that rose from beneath the ground,
a single brown feather...
lost in the grey dirt,
a million small boats...
lost in a raging cyclone,
and the stripped leaves of an Oak tree.
All are swept away...
in the ashes of the wind.
True Time.
Chime...
We are lost...
we weaved a space through the cosmos,
and hammered out patterns in the Heaven's...
we built bridges through the dimensions,
and held council with celestial beings...
The Sun burnt symbol's upon our hearts,
and our bones were ground to dust...
we wore the cloaks,
of disillusion-unwise...
and despaired,
even as we persevered...
through our swamps.
We answered the call long ago...
and sometimes we wish,
that we had had the strength...
to cut our ears from us,
when we found out...
what was coming.
There was however...
no stopping it,
and time has a hand...
in our lives.
So we dance and dancedancedancedance....
A mouse opened its' eye,
a great Queen decided to cry...
a myth became a terror,
and the strangest of hands...
have choked us dead.
Now we are the river.
I work, write and sleep each day away...right now I'm staring at and feeling a world of trees. Trees made from golden and green light and a wind that sounds like the ocean.
One day very very soon...I'm going to be free of all these shackles. Free to live my life in a different way.
My book becoming published has been put on hold for now, until I can afford the cost of getting the story professionally proofread.
I hope you are all finding peace of some kind today.
go ripzinma oxpsu... (New Rubaleen)
I love you all....
Miss CLScarlett xx
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